Fix It
by rizandace
Summary: "And then they had to go to stupid Heaven and Dean had to see Sam's stupid version of happiness and how it didn't include Dean, not even once... he was pissed and hurt and he wasn't sure which emotion was stronger." The Winchester brothers have a long over-due talk. Set Season 5, Rated T.


**Author's Note: This story is motivated by two things: First off, I notice there is a large trend in Supernatural fics to show Dean as the Big Brother who always fixes things, no matter how bad they get. I wanted to show how Sam also has this "fix it" role in their relationship. In this way, Dean relies on Sam to do a lot of the repair work, and is at a loss when his brother doesn't fulfill his role.**

**The second motivation is a mixture of Season Eight feelings and just a general frustration with the show in general. I love Supernatural, but I feel like there are a lot of issues between Sam and Dean that are never resolved. A famous one, of course, is the amulet-being-thrown-away in Season 5, but it's about more than that to me - Sam going away to school has been this point of resentment for all eight seasons of the show so far. Dean simply _won't let that one go_. And I've read entirely too many fics that get on Sam's case about A) going to school and B) not looking for Dean in the post-season 7 catastrophe. I'm getting tired of everyone picking on my Sammy. If he wants to go to Stanford, he should be able to damn well go to Stanford. The only person in the show who seems to _understand_ that is Sam himself.  
**

**Sorry for the A/N ramble... This story takes place in Season 5 after Dark Side of the Moon... and the famous amulet scene. Enjoy! Read and Review.**

* * *

No matter how much Dean thought about it, he couldn't quite figure out how Sam always managed to pull it off. The kid had this sixth sense concerning chick flick moments. He always had – since they were little, Dean had always depended on Sam to figure out which fights could be solved with gentle nudge and an offering of the TV remote, and which ones required lengthy talks and – _cringe_ – possibly even hugs. He always knew how long to wait after a fight, and how hard to push Dean to open up. Even when it pissed him off, (which was most of the time, truth be told) at the end of the day Dean appreciated Sam's instinctive understanding on these things. It meant that they were still okay.

But something was different this time around. It had been two weeks since he and Sam had been shot and sent to heaven, (Roy and Walt were _so_ dead if Dean ever saw them again) and Sam hadn't stepped in to patch up the damage.

And yeah, they'd been through a lot, what with the whole being dead thing, and Cas flipping out, and them discovering that God simply _didn't care_, and all the mess of stuff that they'd seen in each other's versions of Heaven… but usually Sam would have said something by now. Or at least done something. Something small to let Dean know that they'd be able to fix this. Dean had been paying close attention, and so far… nothing.

But they'd gotten through the rest, hadn't they? The Winchester brothers. They always prevailed, no matter what they came up against, and that list was getting pretty long, now, wasn't it? Jess dead, Dad missing, Dad dead, _Sam_ dead (oh God, it still hurt to think it), Sam alive again, Dean sliced and diced and sent to Hell, Dean back from Hell, Sam with Ruby and the Demon blood… breaking the seal, separating, reuniting… and Dean had, lately anyway, started to feel like he and Sam were back on a good path.

And then they had to go to stupid Heaven and Dean had to see Sam's stupid version of _happiness_ and how it didn't include _Dean_, not even _once_, and then he'd had to go and throw the amulet away and now he felt all guilty and horrible about it, but on the other hand he was pissed and hurt and he wasn't sure which emotion was stronger. And Sam wasn't _fixing_ it.

"Hey. I got dinner," Dean said as he opened the door to the motel room. He was losing track of where they were (Colorado, maybe?) and what they were supposed to be most worried about at the moment. Cas was AWOL, still freaked about the whole God business, and Lucifer and Michael were who knew where, and… life, in general, was fucked up.

"Thanks," Sam said tonelessly. He accepted the packaged salad from Dean without even looking at him, his eyes glued to his laptop.

Dean felt his mouth twitch down in an involuntary frown. "You looking for a case?" he asked.

"Hm."

Dean shrugged and took that for a yes, biting in to his burger. He let the silence linger for a few minutes and then he tried again.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hm?"

And damn it. He didn't even have a clue what to say. "You… uh… find anything?"

Sam looked briefly up from his computer and raised his eyebrows. "Uh… no."

"Oh. Okay."

Things were not supposed to be awkward. Dean was supposed to be feeling hurt about what he'd seen in Sam's version of paradise, and he was supposed to be pissed that Sam wasn't talking about it. He _wasn't_ supposed to be feeling guilty about some stupid necklace, and he wasn't supposed to be the one to make things right again. That was Sam's job, damn it.

After a night clicking away on his computer, Sam did manage to track down a couple of strange deaths a few states away, so they hit the road. Dean didn't bother to turn any music on, and Sam wasn't talking, and so the car was filled with silence so tense Dean felt like punching something.

When they stopped at another motel for the night, Dean wordlessly went out for dinner, leaving Sam quiet and settled (again) with his computer on one of the motel's two beds.

It was when he _returned_ from said food run that things got interesting.

When he entered with take-out bags stuffed under his arm, Sam was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head bowed over a small object in his hands. When he heard the door open, he made to stuff whatever it was in his pocket, but Dean was too quick for him. Dropping the food on the room's small table on the way, he rushed towards Sam, eyebrows lowered in concentration.

"What the hell?" he snatched at the black cord and managed to grab it before Sam could hide it away. The amulet.

"_Hey_. Give it back!"

"How did you get this?"

"I took it out of the room after _you_ tossed it out! Give it!"

Dean felt his stomach clench at the look on Sam's face – a strange mixture of anger and fear.

"No. Not until you tell me what you're doing with it." Dean's own voice came out shakier than he meant it to. He had the amulet clenched tight in his fist. The metal was warm from contact with Sam's hands, and Dean had the sudden urge to lift it up, put it around his neck, and tell Sam to just _deal_ with it. But he couldn't. As girly as it sounded, Dean didn't want to put the thing back on unless _Sam_ wanted him to.

"Are you serious, Dean? I mean, I know it's just a necklace, but you've been wearing that thing for years – since the day I gave it to you. Whatever you think you saw in Heaven got you pissed enough to throw that away – "

And so okay, yeah, Dean was feeling guilt about the necklace, but he was suddenly reminded that he was also _angry_, and had a damn good reason to be.

"Whatever I _think_ I saw? Dude, I woke up in Heaven to a memory of the two of us together, and _you_ filled _your_ paradise with everything _but_ me."

Sam flinched but then something in his expression hardened. He stood up and strode towards Dean, ripping the amulet back and holding it tight in his fist. "You want to know _why_ that night was a happy memory for me?"

Dean didn't need to ask which night. After all, Sam's memory of Thanksgiving made sense (a maternal presence offering pumpkin pie) and even the time he ran away (he'd been trying to prove to Dean that he _could_ take care of himself, and he had) but Stanford… that one hurt, and Sam had to know it.

"You've made it perfectly clear – you were finally on your own. Away from your family. Must have been quite the thrill for you."

Sam flinched again slightly, but then spat out: "Dude, you have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

"You walked out on us, Sam! Me and Dad! What else is there to know about it?"

Sam was standing at his full height, less than a foot away from his brother, and Dean _hated_ the way he had to look up to meet his eyes.

"Look, Dean, I wouldn't have even _gone_ to Stanford if it weren't for you!"

They both seemed to realize what Sam had said a second after he had said it. Sam's eyes widened and Dean looked quickly away from his brother. He felt like he'd just been punched in the gut, and his heart was pounding.

"No," Sam said, sounding horrified. "I didn't mean it that way, I – "

"It's fine, Sam." And damn it if his voice didn't come out a bit choked. "I get it, it's – " he tried to walk past his brother, feeling an odd stinging in his eyes, and he was _not_ about to start _crying_ in front of –

"No, Dean – _please_."

Sam's voice was shaking, and it was a _please_ that settled it. Dean turned around slowly, keeping his face carefully stoic. His little brother's eyes were dewy and huge, and he was still clutching the damn amulet in his right hand like his life depended on it. Dean tried not to feel guilty – tried to fight against his Big-Brother instinct to make sure Sam _never_ had a reason to look that way. He fought against the need to help and grasped onto the anger.

"How _did _you mean it, then?"

Sam looked at Dean for a long time, and then his shoulders slumped. He sunk back onto the bed, twisting the black cord through his fingers slowly. Dean paused for a long moment and then walked back into the room, sitting on the bed opposite. He knew Sam well enough to understand he was just looking for words. Finally, after an immeasurable pause, Sam spoke.

"When I got my acceptance letter, I … I knew how Dad would react. I knew he'd yell and he'd tell me I was betraying my family and that I was a horrible son, and… and when that happened, it hurt, because I wanted my father to at least be _proud_ of me for getting a full-ride, and – "

"He _was_ proud of you, Sam," Dean broke in. Sam's face snapped up and the brothers made eye contact for a second, before Sam looked back at his hands.

"Maybe. But, however he _really_ felt about it, I knew exactly what he would say, so… as much as it sucked I could deal with it."

Dean felt his stomach clench as Sam hesitated. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"I was _terrified_ to tell you, Dean." Sam paused again and coughed. Dean stayed silent. "I thought – I knew you'd be weird about it, and probably hurt and you'd take it all personally, and – "

"Take it _personally_? You were leaving us, Sam – how could I _not_ take that personally?"

Sam glared at Dean briefly but once again looked away. "Will you let me finish?"

Dean was silent, which Sam took as a cue to continue. "I was scared to tell you because I knew you'd think… I _never_ thought…" Sam huffed out a frustrated sigh at his inability to communicate whatever was going on in that freaky head of his. Finally, he clenched his jaw and spoke again. "I never looked at it as a choice. That's what you and Dad never seemed to get. If someone had told me to choose between college and my _family_ – God, Dean, the answer would have been obvious!"

Sam looked up at his brother, who had been staring at the top of his head while he talked. For a second they made eye content. Dean watched as Sam's eyes narrowed, and then widened in shock. "_You_, Jackass! I would have picked my family! _You!_"

"But you _didn't_," Dean hissed. "That's the whole problem in the first place."

"It wasn't about choosing one thing or the other. Look, Dean, growing up, I saw how good you were with hunting. You seemed built for it, and me… I understood how important it was. I knew we helped people. And I got why we needed to kill Yellow-Eyes, but… I never felt like hunting was what I was supposed to do with my life. I wanted something… different."

"Something better, you mean." In the back of his head, Dean was feeling vaguely bewildered. He'd been back on the road with Sam for _years_ now. He'd thought they had put these issues behind them – Sam may have abandoned him once, but he wouldn't do it again. But then… Heaven had dragged up a lot of unfinished business. Maybe this particularly painful conversation with Sam was long overdue.

"No. Not better. Just different. Think about it, Dean – what if you'd been forced to train as a lawyer since you were a baby – you lived and breathed the law, but… you felt like you were meant for something else. I hated it, Dean. I _wanted_ to want to hunt. And I _didn't_ want to… to get _away_ from you."

Sam paused for a while, but Dean didn't say anything. He was thinking about his little brother when they were growing up. He complained a lot about moving around, about hunting, but never about Dean. He had _loved_ school and it tore him up whenever he had to miss it for a hunt. And then he got into a great school and his family practically shunned him for it. And then Dean wondered, and he had to say it –

"I've been pissed at you for not being more like me."

"What?" Sam sounded confused, and Dean realized that his statement made little sense without further elaboration.

"I mean – when you decided to go, I was _so_ angry with you, because I couldn't imagine how you could _want_ to go. I didn't get it, but… dude, you're not me. Maybe I should have… just understood that you're not me."

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Dean wondered if he'd ever had a conversation with more awkward pauses in it.

"Thanks for saying that," Sam said quietly. "But you still don't get it."

"I don't – "

"Do you remember how you reacted when I showed you my acceptance letter?"

Dean paused, and then he _did_ remember. "I yelled at you."

Sam nodded. "Not to sound like a girl, but I was crushed. I thought… I _knew_ you wouldn't be thrilled, but I thought you might be happy for _me_, at least."

"Sammy, I'm – "

"I'm not telling you this so you can apologize for something that happened almost ten years ago, Dean. The only reason I'm talking about this at _all_ is that _you_ are obviously still hung up on it."

Dean heard the anger in Sam's voice and fought to keep his own tone level. "You're right. I never dealt with you leaving. But, man, c'mon, your _Heaven_ was ditching me – no, let me finish – I know that's not how you think of it, but it's how it felt – feels – to me. You get why I'm… upset, I guess."

Sam huffed. "You get that Zachariah was _trying_ to upset us, right? Dean – my _Heaven_ is you and me, safe and happy – but Zachariah was running the show upstairs, and you know that. You got to see Mom, and I couldn't share in that."

"Sorry – "

"Zach was messing with us, Dean," Sam pushed through the apology. "That Thanksgiving? I spent most of the day with _you_ before going to that dinner. The night I left for school? Don't you remember what you said to me?"

"Yeah, I yelled at you – "

"_No_."

Dean stopped short at the urgency in Sam's voice. Dean looked away from his brother again and let his eyes fix on the amulet. He listened to Sam breath heavily a few times.

"I saw other families. Other close, happy families, and I wanted… I wanted my brother, but I also wanted Stanford. You… you were so angry when I told you I wanted to go. You didn't talk to me for days. And then I tried to sneak out – leave without saying goodbye, remember?"

Dean felt his stomach clench. He _did_ remember – waking up early in the morning and seeing the empty bed across the room… He'd jumped up and run across the hall of the motel to shake Dad awake… the two of them had chased Sam to the bus stop before he had managed to leave.

John Winchester had yelled. Sam had yelled. Dean had felt his guts twist. John had told Sam that if he went to school, he could consider himself done with their family. He had told Sam not to come back.

Maybe Dean had been blocking the memory or something, but suddenly it was crystal in his mind – that look on Sam's face. Like his very happiness had just been stolen from him by someone he trusted entirely. John had seemed guilty immediately but the curse of the Winchesters was Pride to the extreme, and he had walked away without another word, back towards the impala.

Dean looked up at Sam, who was still staring at him from his seat on the hotel's bed. The amulet was still clenched tightly in his hands.

"Dad yelled at me and then he left, and then you – "

"I said goodbye."

Sam nodded slowly, again avoiding his brother's eyes. "I was pissed at you for being pissed at _me_ for wanting to go to school, but I was still crushed at the thought of leaving when things were so bad between us. But then – you told me you were proud, and you said we'd always be family. You gave me a goodbye. It's the only thing about that night that made it tolerable."

The room was silent for a long time after that. Dean felt a little lost, but a lot more found. He knew that he and Sam had a hell of a lot (or would that be a heaven of a lot?) of issues to work through, but the most important part had happened.

"Hey, can I have that back?" Dean asked. He tried to make it sound casual, but he wasn't fooling himself, and he certainly wasn't fooling Sam.

Sam looked at the amulet for a long time. Too long. Dean was stupidly nervous over stupid necklace, but suddenly having Sam give it back to him was necessary. He didn't know what he'd do if –

"Okay."

He tossed it across the small space between them, and Dean snagged it in one hand and slid it back around his neck in one motion. They hadn't quite closed the distance between them yet, but the necklace acted as a bridge. Dean was grateful.

Once again, Sam had fixed it.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks! Hope to hear what you think. :)**


End file.
